


With All of the Folks At Home

by BreTheWriter



Series: Jim and Bones: The Academy Years [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreTheWriter/pseuds/BreTheWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their third year at the Academy, and Jim figures he's going to be alone on Christmas yet again. Then Bones surprises him by inviting him out to Georgia for the holiday break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With All of the Folks At Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ricechex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricechex/gifts), [slashsailing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashsailing/gifts), [sarcasmisawayoflife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasmisawayoflife/gifts), [toboldlydammitjim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toboldlydammitjim/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [doctorenterprise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorenterprise/gifts).



"You goin' home for Christmas this year?" 

The question startled me. It was right before finals week, and Bones and I had been studying in silence for about three hours. Since we were in our final year at the Academy, we took our studies _very_ seriously. To hear him speak at this point at all, therefore, was kind of startling. But to have him ask _that?_

"Nah," I said, trying to make it sound like it didn't matter. "Mom's on...Caldik Prime, I think. Plant-gathering trip. She won't be back for a few months." And since my mother was my only family living, there wasn't any point in trying to go home. 

"So where are you going?" Bones pressed. 

I raised my eyebrows. "Nowhere. I'll be hanging around here." _Alone_ , I added to myself. _Just like last year. And the year before that._ "I figure I'll get some extra cross-training in, loiter in a few bars, snoop for information on what ship we might get posted on after we graduate. It'll be fun. I'm kinda looking forward to it," I lied. 

Bones' eyebrows twitched briefly, and he seemed to be fighting down a smile. "Mmm. Never mind then, I guess." 

"What?" I asked, suspicious. 

"Oh, nothing. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come back to Georgia with me, but if you're looking forward to your fun-filled Christmas in San Francisco..." Bones shrugged and picked up his textbook again. 

I bit my lip, hard. I wanted to jump up and yell, _beg_ him to take me, but old habits died hard. And I couldn't help but hear Frank's mean, nasty voice: _Nobody cares what you want._ I was afraid to ask in case he hadn't been serious. I looked down at my textbook, but I was surprised and confused that I couldn't see the text anymore. The pages were suddenly blurry. It wasn't until I felt something hot and wet on my cheek that I realized I was crying. Ashamed, praying Bones hadn't seen, I tried to wipe my eyes surreptitiously. 

"Jim?" 

I winced and looked up. "I, uh, I've got something in my eye," I mumbled. 

Bones' expression said that he didn't believe me for a minute, but to my relief, he didn't mention it. "You know, you've done the whole 'Frisco thing a couple of times. How 'bout a change?" 

I felt a lump in my throat. He had been serious. "If you're sure nobody would mind me being there." 

"I'm positive." 

I smiled. "Then...I'll come."

* * *

"I still hate those things," Bones muttered as we stepped off the shuttle two weeks later. 

I elbowed him companionably. "Aw, c'mon, Bones. It's not _that_ scary, is it?" 

He actually grinned at me. "Actually, no, it's not. Maybe it's--" 

"Leo! Leo! Leo! Leo! Leo!" 

A blur flew towards us and suddenly attacked Bones around the waist. He gave a startled "oof" and staggered a step or two back, then grinned wider and wrapped his arms around the figure. "Hey, kiddo," he said with deep affection. "Miss me?" 

"You bet." The person looked up at Bones. It was a girl, maybe in her late teens, with reddish-brown hair and brilliant green eyes. "Did you get shuttle-sick this year?" 

"Nope. Had company to keep my mind off of things." Bones grinned at me and I grinned back. 

The girl looked at me, and her eyes widened. She let go of Bones and stared at me, jaw slack. "Hel- _lo_ ," she practically cooed in a honeyed southern accent, like Bones' when he got going but more syrupy, more affected. "What's _your_ name?" 

"Jim Kirk," I answered, not sure whether to be amused or concerned by the girl's attitude. 

"Oh! So _you're_ Jim!" The girl grinned. "Leo talks about you _all_ the time, but he didn't tell me you were so--" 

"Watch it, pipsqueak," Bones growled. "Jim, this little twerp here is my kid sister, Suzanna. She's fifteen." 

"I'll be sixteen in April," Suzanna protested. 

"Like I said, she's fifteen." 

"Ohhhh..." Suzanna stamped her foot and folded her arms huffily. "You're as bad as Mama." She looked up at me and suddenly uncrossed her arms, smiling sweetly again. "How old are _you_ , Jim?" 

I suddenly realized that she was flirting with me. That made me _incredibly_ uncomfortable, for a couple of reasons. One was that I didn't want Bones to hate me for flirting with his sister. One was that she was _way_ too young for me. And one...well, one was that I'd already fallen hard for one McCoy, and I didn't want to break another one's heart. 

"I'll be twenty-five in January," I told her. 

"So you're twenty-four," Suzanna said, a little impudently. 

"I'm closer to twenty-five than you are to sixteen. Trust me, kiddo, don't be in a hurry to grow up. It sucks." 

Suzanna sighed theatrically. "That's what Leo says." 

"You should listen to your brother. He's a very wise man." 

"Leo? Wise?" Suzanna's face twisted into a weird cross between a grimace and a smirk. "No way. Just 'cause he's twice my age, he thinks he knows everything." 

Bones rolled his eyes heavenward. "Can we have this conversation somewhere else?" 

"Sure," I said quickly. "Lead on, McCoy." 

"Shakespeare, right?" Suzanna said. "Uh, _Romeo and Juliet_ , I think." 

I couldn't help but laugh. "Wrong on both counts. The quote you're thinking of is 'Lay on, MacDuff, and damned be him who first cries "Hold! Enough!"' And it's from _Macbeth."_

"Oh." Suzanna looked momentarily disappointed, then brightened. "We've got the complete Shakespeare in the den. It was Leo's when he was in school. You can show me when we get home, maybe?" 

Bones looked annoyed. I didn't want to walk next to his sister, not with Bones looking like that, but she inserted herself between the two of us and chattered brightly the whole way through town, and even my monosyllabic answers didn't dampen her enthusiasm. 

After a good fifteen, twenty minutes, Bones cut Suzanna off by pointing. "That's it. Home sweet home." 

I drew in my breath when I saw the house he was pointing at. We were outside the town proper, and the house sat alone on the road. It was three stories high, painted white with pale, pale blue trim. There was a _huge_ front porch with a white swing and three rocking chairs, the roof of which was held up by thick white columns. The grass was like green velvet, even in the middle of December, and though the bushes out front had no blooms, I had no trouble identifying them as rosebushes. A white picket fence surrounded the front yard, with a neatly-swept gravel walk leading to the porch. There was an evergreen wreath on the front door, surmounted with a big red bow. 

Bones looked up. "Haven't decorated yet?" 

"We were waiting for you, silly. Just like we always do." Suzanna poked her brother, then turned to me. "What do you think, Jim?" 

I didn't take my eyes from the house. "It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen in my life," I said sincerely. 

The grumpy mask Bones had worn since his sister showed up cracked, and he actually smiled. "Wait'll you see the inside." He opened the gate and bowed me through, a courtly, old-fashioned gesture. "After you." 

Suzanna started to run ahead, then checked herself and paced herself to me. Bones rolled his eyes, the smile disappearing. I wanted to say something to reassure him, but the words stuck in my throat. Truth was, I was suddenly incredibly nervous. I usually had the gift of fitting in anywhere. I'd grown up in the cornfields of Iowa, spent my teenage years in a series of seedy bars, and slotted pretty effortlessly into the Academy scene and the San Francisco nightlife. But here, on the front walk of this Georgia mansion, I was completely out of my element. Despite the fact that I was wearing exactly the same thing Bones was--a t-shirt, a leather jacket (his brown, mine black), and a pair of khakis--I suddenly felt like I was wearing manure-covered overalls and half-undone boots. My breath started coming in short bursts, my palms felt sweaty, and my heart was pounding. 

Just as we reached the porch steps, the door opened and a woman appeared. She was short and plump, with silvery hair done in a braid that wrapped around her head, a calico dress, a white apron, and a welcoming smile. Her eyes, twinkling behind a pair of silver glasses, were the same warm brown as Bones'. "Leonard!" she called, in a more mature version of Suzanna's voice. "Welcome home!" 

Bones' smile returned. He mounted the steps and took her hands in his. "Hello, Gran," he said warmly, kissing her wrinkled cheek. 

"Oh, you _are_ a sight for sore eyes, Leo. I declare, I don't know what they're doing to you at that Starfleet Academy, but you look handsomer than ever." Bones' grandmother smiled up at him, then turned to me. She gave a slight start. "Oh! I'm sorry, young man, I didn't notice you. How may I help you?" 

I gave Bones a look of mute appeal, since I still couldn't get any words out. His smile slipped slightly, just for a second, and a flash of something appeared in his eyes. "Uh, Gran," he said, letting go of her hands and taking a half-step back, "this is Jim Kirk, my best friend. Jim, this is my grandmother, Elizabeth McCoy." 

I swallowed hard and managed to say, "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." 

"The pleasure is all mine, young man," Bones' grandmother said warmly, coming forward and taking my hand in hers. "I've heard so much about you from Leo. He sings your praises to the heavens. Goodness, if I'd known you were coming with him, I'd have sent Jasper with the car to meet you." She turned and glared at Bones as she said this. 

Surprise overcame my nervousness, and I looked at Bones. "You didn't tell your family I was coming?" 

Bones blushed. "It sorta slipped my mind." 

I blushed, too, completely mortified. The old woman patted my hand comfortingly. "It's not your fault, darlin'. Now you just come on in. Lucky thing I've just aired out the guest bedroom next to Leo's room. I'm afraid you'll have to share a bathroom with him, but you won't have to share with the rest of the family, at least. Leo, you show him up there, and once you two boys are settled, come on down and we'll have a glass of sweet tea. Suzanna, you come with me." She had led me into the house as she spoke; now she smiled up at me, shot Bones another look, and headed deeper into the house. Suzanna grinned and winked at me, then followed her. 

Bones looked at me and smiled. "My grandmother." 

"You didn't tell her I was coming," I said again. 

"C'mon," Bones muttered. He grabbed my arm and dragged me up a wide, curving flight of stairs. I barely had time to register the banister, framed portraits, and the pattern of the carpeting, and then he was pulling me into a room. It was light and airy, with a four-poster bed, a matching nightstand and dresser, and a windowseat. It looked cozy and comfortable. 

He released my arm and closed the door, then looked at me, obviously embarrassed. "Jim, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know I shoulda told Gran you were comin'. But honestly, up until the last minute, I was sure you were gonna change your mind." He swallowed hard. "I know how much you hate...I mean, I thought you'd think I only asked you out of pity. That I couldn't stand the thought of you spendin' another Christmas alone in San Francisco. And, yeah, okay, maybe that was part of it. But you're--you're my best friend. I really wanted you to come, just because of that." 

I reached out and touched Bones' shoulder lightly. "I wasn't gonna change my mind. I really wanted to come. I'm glad to be here. Honest." 

Bones smiled. "You looked kinda miserable on the porch." 

"Bones, I was scared outta my mind," I admitted in a low voice. 

"You?" Bones sounded surprised. "Of what?" 

"I dunno. That your family wouldn't like me, I guess." 

"Jim, they love you. Gran's been nagging me to bring you to visit for the last two years. And they haven't even _met_ you yet. Once they do, they'll understand why I feel the way I do about you." 

I fought down the unexpected flutter in my stomach. I knew he didn't mean it _that_ way. He thought of me as his best friend. That was how he kept introducing me. That was the way it had to stay. 

But God, it was nice to think otherwise, if only for a minute.

* * *

Bones was right. His family _did_ love me. 

We'd never really talked much about our families. He knew about my dad's death--well, everyone did--and I'd told him a little about Mom. I knew his dad had died right after Bones got out of medical school of some incredibly painful disease, and he'd told me some about his grandmother. But he'd never mentioned anyone else. 

I met his mother, Barbara Pawcett McCoy. She was a wonderful woman with beautiful manners. She told me that Suzanna looked exactly like she had when she was young, and I could certainly see the resemblance, but I was privately shocked at how old she looked. Miz Lizbeth, as Bones' grandmother insisted I call her, looked to be in her sixties but was going strong at ninety-three. Barbara was fifty-seven and looked over a hundred. 

His grandfather, Jasper McCoy, was ninety-five and acted like a much younger man. I deduced that the McCoy genes were significantly stronger than the Pawcett genes and found myself praying that Bones took after his dad's family rather than his mom's. Jasper was tall and broad-shouldered, strong from years of farmwork. He was fairly silent and stern-looking, and he and Bones obviously had a bit of a strained relationship, but he treated me as though I had always been there, which I appreciated. 

I had a hard time keeping the extended family straight. David McCoy, Bones' father, had been the middle of five children, three of whom were still living. I felt bad for Miz Lizbeth, having lost her two oldest boys (Bones' uncle Jesse had died when Bones was fifteen), but she didn't let it slow her down. Maggie McCoy, Jesse's widow, had arrived with her son Ted and his wife Carol, who had two children of their own, a girl Suzanna's age and a boy of twelve. David's older sister, Madison, was married to a Cherokee man named Daniel Watie; they had one daughter, who was married with one child and another on the way. The younger brother, Solomon, and his wife Violet had three children, all boys, all married, all with children of their own. Norma Jean McCoy, Bones' favorite aunt, was unmarried and had no children. 

Not all of these people were staying at the house, which I learned actually belonged to Bones' grandparents; Solomon and Violet lived "down the road a piece" on another farm, and all their children and grandchildren were staying there. Madison and Daniel had an RV, which was where they lived anyway, and they were staying in that. Bones' mother and sister lived with Jasper and Miz Lizbeth. What she called "Leo's room" had in fact been Bones' room before his marriage, but now it was technically a guest room--although, really, it was a guest room set aside for Bones when he came home. I was impressed with the number of rooms in the house and the way Miz Lizbeth managed to effortlessly find space for everybody. 

I met everyone by dinner that first night. I was exhausted and dropped off to sleep right away when I went to bed, but it didn't surprise me when I was up before the sun rose the next morning. I'd always been an early riser, and in San Francisco I usually got up between seven and eight and went for a run, unless my alarm (or Bones' alarm, if I was crashing in his dorm) went off sooner--even if I hadn't gone to bed until three or four. But we were in the country now, and early-bred habits reawakened. In fact, when I rolled over and saw the luminous numbers of the chronometer, my first thought was, _Six-thirty--time to feed the hens._ I was up and half-dressed before it even occurred to me that I wasn't on the farm in Iowa. 

Still, I was on _a_ farm. I tugged on an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt, buttoned up into a flannel shirt I hadn't worn in four years, laced up my old work boots, and slipped out of the room I'd been given. 

When I got down to the kitchen, I found Jasper McCoy lifting a jacket off a peg near the back door. He raised his eyebrows when he saw me. "What're you doin' up so early?" 

I swallowed. "Thought you might could use some help with the chores," I said. "I mean, I'm a little out of practice, but I _did_ grow up on a farm." 

Jasper's eyes narrowed, taking in my appearance. "What kind of farm?" 

"Just a farm. Henhouse. Couple of cows. Few horses. One pig. Corn and wheat." I shrugged. 

"You remember how to milk?" 

"Sure." 

"All right. Dairy barn's on the left. Put the full buckets in the dairy and Lizbeth'll do what she wants with 'em." Jasper nodded once and headed out the door. 

The calluses on my fingers had long ago faded, but as soon as I touched the first udder, they remembered what to do. The steady _pssst, pssst_ of the milk hitting the bucket was a soft, familiar noise. Maybe my childhood hadn't been great. My stepfather had been emotionally abusive and my mother was never there, but I'd never minded farmwork. It had actually been the enjoyable part. 

I finished the milking just as Jasper came in with a pitchfork over his shoulder. "How many more you got to milk, boy?" 

"Just finished the last one," I replied, wiping my hands on my jeans. 

"Hmm. Good," Jasper grunted. "If you're still anxious to help, you can turn out the horses and muck out some stalls." 

"Yessir." I smiled and headed out for the stables. 

I was on the next-to-last stall when Bones came in. He looked startled to see me. "Jim? What're you doing?" 

"Mucking out stalls, what's it look like?" I scraped another load of soiled straw off the floor and deposited it into a wheelbarrow. 

"You look like you'd been doing this all your life." 

I paused, looking up at him. "I _have_ been doing this all my life, remember?" 

Bones looked sheepish. "Actually, I'd completely forgotten." He grabbed another pitchfork and started helping me. We worked in silence for a while. Then, as we were laying down fresh straw, he paused and looked at me. "I didn't invite you out here to make you work, you know. This _is_ a vacation." 

I shrugged. "No vacation days on a farm. Animals still have to be fed. Cows have to be milked. Stalls have to be mucked out." 

"Yeah, but... _you_ don't have to be the one to do it." 

"I know, but I want to." 

Bones chuckled. "Guess you gotta put all that energy of yours somewhere." 

We finished the other stall. I glanced up at the sun. "Eight-forty-five?" I hazarded. 

Bones glanced at his watch, then did a double-take. "Damn, you're good." 

I laughed. "Doesn't pay to wear a watch while doing farmwork. It's just gonna get broken. Have you eaten yet?" 

"Yeah, of course. Gran doesn't let anyone out without breakfast...well, 'cept to do chores." 

"Think there's any left for me?" 

"Jim!" Bones exclaimed. "You haven't eaten yet?" 

"Chores," I reminded him. 

Bones grabbed my upper arm. "Come on." 

Miz Lizbeth was humming as she washed dishes--by hand. I'd noticed the night before that there were next to no modern appliances in the house. She looked up and smiled. "Oh, hello, Jim. Did you sleep well?" 

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," I replied. 

"Has Granddad already had his breakfast?" Bones asked. 

"Yes, dear, he ate about ten minutes ago." 

Bones' face fell. "I guess you cleaned everything up then." 

Before Miz Lizbeth could reply, Norma Jean called from the other room, "Mama, there's still grits left in this pot out here. You want I should throw it out?" 

"No!" Bones called quickly. 

Norma Jean appeared in the doorway and scowled at Bones. "You ate already, Piglet." 

I snorted. Bones ignored both me and the insult. "Yeah, but Jim didn't. He's been out mucking stalls." 

Miz Lizbeth looked startled. "You're a guest, Jim! You don't have to do that!" 

"Please, Miz Lizbeth, I want to," I said quickly. 

"Well..." Miz Lizbeth wavered. "All right. Now you go sit down, honey, and I'll fix you right up. Leo, you sit with him." 

Bones pushed me into the breakfast room. True to her word, Miz Lizbeth fixed me a bowl of grits, a huge cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. Bones sat next to me while I ate. 

"You all right, Jim?" he asked at last. 

I looked up, surprised. "Yeah, why?" 

"You've just got this...weird look on your face. Grits taste funny?" 

"Not at all," I said, even though I'd never had grits before and didn't know how they were supposed to taste. "It's just...I'm not used to people making a fuss over me." 

Bones grinned. "Get used to it. Gran spoils all of us." 

"Yeah, but I'm not even family." 

The look Bones gave me sent a thrill down my spine. "Who told you that?"

* * *

Decorating for Christmas was a _huge_ production. Daniel, an axe over one shoulder, set off with a group of the children and a sled to find the perfect Christmas tree. I got roped into climbing up on ladders to help hang lights. Others reorganized the living room and wove garlands through the banisters of the stairs. Someone put a candle in every window of the house. 

The whole time they were working, the McCoys (and all their related offshoots) sang, loudly and uproariously and more or less in tune. Even Bones sang along, looking happier than I'd seen him look in a while. Every once in a while, I'd stop what I was doing and look for him, and see him, surrounded by his cousins' children or tangled up in a string of lights or picking something up for an elderly relative. He was completely in his element. 

"Whatcha lookin' at, kiddo?" 

I was on the front porch, tacking up a string of icicle lights, and the question startled me so much I almost fell off the ladder. I looked down to see Norma Jean sitting on the porch railing, one leg drawn up, smoking a cigarette and smirking at me. "Jeez, Miz Norma Jean, you scared me. Are you trying to kill me?" 

"I will if you don't quit that 'Miz' crap and start callin' me Aunt, like Leo does," she retorted. "And you didn't answer my question. Whatcha lookin' at?" 

I gestured through the front window, coming down the ladder as I did so. "I was just thinking...Bones just--just _belongs_ here." 

"'Course he does, it's his home." Norma Jean came closer and peered through the window. "See what you mean, though. You ever see him like this--so completely at home and in control?" 

"Only in the medical wing," I answered. "You get him at the side of someone who's sick or hurt and he can do anything. Steadiest hands in Starfleet, I heard Phlox say once, and for all he says he's just a simple country doctor, he's a damned good one." I looked up at Norma Jean. "He saved my life last summer, you know." 

Norma Jean raised an eyebrow. It was Bones' expression to the life. "Really. No, I didn't hear about that. What happened?" 

"Survival course--only I almost didn't," I told her. "It's kind of a long story. But basically I got back a week later than I was supposed to, severly dehydrated, malnourished, sunburnt, physically exhausted, and with a nasty, deep cut on my back that got infected. Bones was the one who saved my life. He kept saying it wasn't as bad as it looked, but according to everyone else, it was." 

"Hmm." Norma Jean looked back through the window. "Well, that oughta impress Daddy if nothing else will." 

That startled me. "What, you don't think Bones impresses your father?" 

"You haven't seen Leo with a horse or you wouldn't have asked. David--his father, my brother--David was a farmer, too. He stayed on to help Daddy with the farm. Both Daddy and David always figured Leo would do the same. Marry, settle down in the family house, raise kids, work the land. But Leo had other ideas. He wanted to go to medical school, be a doctor. David was okay with it. Said anything Leo wanted to do was fine with him, and he'd be proud of him." 

"And Jasper?" I asked. 

"Daddy wasn't happy. At all. Mama talked him 'round eventually. Said a doctor was still somethin' to be proud of, and that Leo'd have status in the community. And he did, at first. Like you said, he's a good doctor. Then his and Joss's marriage fell apart--well, he's told you 'bout that, I'm sure." Norma Jean shook her head. "Cost him a lot of that status. You know, that he couldn't heal that." 

"Yeah." We didn't talk about it much--it was a private pain for him, and one I didn't know how to soothe, although God knew I wanted to. I didn't know _why_ the marriage had fallen apart, exactly, but she'd hurt him, and hurt him badly. He was an aviophobe, practically an astrophobe, and yet Jocelyn McCoy had damaged him so severely that he'd joined Starfleet, that he was actually _willing_ to fly into space to escape her. I wasn't sure why the town thought a doctor should have been able to heal his broken marriage, but I didn't ask. 

Norma Jean looked thoughtful. "'Course, Daddy'd got angry at Leo long before that. He still hasn't forgiven Leo for letting David die." 

"He didn't _let_ him die," I said, irrationally angry. "The cure for his condition didn't even _exist_ yet--not for another six weeks after his death. Bones did his best. He couldn't have known how close a cure was." 

Norma Jean shook her head slowly. "I know that. And Leo knows that, too. 'Sides, he couldn't deny his daddy's dying wish. But that's the part _our_ daddy could never forgive." 

I froze. _No, I must have heard wrong. I must have misunderstood._ Bones hardly ever talked about his father's death, which I could definitely understand; I rarely talked about mine, either. The difference was that everybody knew how my father had died. I'd always figured, from what Bones had said, that his father had just slipped away, succumbing to a painful illness despite all Bones' efforts to save him. But if Norma Jean was saying what I thought she had just said... 

If Norma Jean realized she'd let something slip, she gave no sign. She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. "Anyway, Daddy likes you. Maybe if he finds out Leo saved your life, he'll be proud of him again. Leo sure as heck deserves it." 

"Yeah," I said softly. "'Scuse me, Aunt Norma Jean." 

"Sure." Norma Jean blew a smoke ring towards the blue Georgia sky. 

I went into the house. Bones had a box in one hand and was standing by the mantlepiece. "Gran?" he called over his shoulder. "There's still a plaque on the mantle. Want me to leave it there or take it down?" 

"That one stays," Miz Lizbeth called from another room. "It doesn't move." 

I waded through the controlled chaos of the kids swarming the enormous pine tree in the corner, hanging mirrored balls and character ornaments and candy canes on every branch, and reached Bones' side. "Need a hand?" 

"Sure. Hold this." Bones plopped the box into my outstretched hands and began pulling out small figurines, which he arranged on the mantlepiece. 

I studied the plaque Miz Lizbeth had insisted "didn't move." It was a painting of a young woman with dark hair, cradling a sleeping baby in her arms. Next to it were a few lines from a poem I'd never heard before. The words brought an unexpected lump to my throat. 

"'Song For a Fifth Child,' by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton," Bones said quietly, catching my gaze. "Gran used to recite that poem every time someone complained the house wasn't spotless. Or so Papa said." 

"It's beautiful," I said. 

One of the kids started singing. The rest joined in. I grinned as Bones sang along, too, and found myself tapping my feet. It certainly took my mind off the poem. 

"C'mon, Jim, join in," Bones coaxed after a couple of verses, taking a couple more figures out of the box. 

I winced. "I, uh, no thanks, I..." 

"Aw, c'mon. I'm sure you've got a great voice, if that's what you're worried about. Anyway, none of us care." 

"It's not that, it's..." I blushed. "I, um, I don't know the words." 

"Oh." Bones grinned. "Yeah, sorry, that's one of the weirder ones. How 'bout 'Deck the Halls?'" 

"No, seriously, I--" 

"Hey, guys," Bones called to the kids around the tree. "Why don't we sing 'Deck the Halls' instead?" 

"Yeah!" yelled one or two of the little ones, and they started singing uproariously. Bones joined in, grinning at me encouragingly. The song had a lot of "fa-la-la-la-la" bits in it, and I sort of picked up on those, but not until the third verse, which turned out to be the last one. 

Bones shook his head teasingly. "You'll go to any lengths to avoid singin', won't you? Well, I've got you." He took the last two figures out of the box and set them on the mantlepiece. "What's your favorite Christmas song? We'll sing that." 

I shook my head. "Bones..." 

"Seriously," Bones insisted. "What's your favorite song?" 

"I don't _know_ any, okay?" I said, dropping my voice as low as I could. 

Bones stared at me for a moment. The kids started singing another song. Miz Lizbeth called my name from the kitchen and I was glad to escape. 

That night, I was sitting curled up in the windowseat when I heard a knock on the door. "Come in," I called. 

It wasn't the door to the hallway but the door to the bathroom that opened, and Bones came in. He crossed over to where I sat and leaned against the wall. The window in my room overlooked the backyard, where the stables led to pastures and open farmland. The moon poured over the grass, turning it a sea of rippling silver. "Pretty night," he mused. 

"Yeah." I smiled. 

Bones looked down at me. "Jim, about earlier..." 

I sighed, looking up at him. "What, about me not knowing any Christmas songs?" 

"Yeah. I'm sorry if I put you on the spot about that. I mean, I never thought to ask you..." Bones spread his hands out helplessly. "What were your Christmas traditions like when you were younger?" 

"You know, Bones," I said quietly, "until I started at the Academy, I wasn't even sure when Christmas _was_. Or _what_ it was." 

"Seriously?" Bones looked shocked. 

"Seriously," I said. "It was just another day on the farm. I guess you could say this is my first Christmas." 

Bones sank down onto the window seat opposite me. "Jim, my God, I'm so sorry," he said softly. "If I'd known..." 

"I didn't want you to know. There's nothing you can do about it, and I didn't want...I don't know." I blew out a sigh. "You know I hate pity, Bones." 

"I know." Bones reached over and grabbed my hand. I felt a bolt of electricity shoot up my arm and hoped it didn't show on my face. "But I wish you'd told me. I wouldn't have embarrassed you down there." 

I managed to flash him my usual cocky grin. "Hey, I'm Jim Kirk. I don't get embarrassed." 

"Yeah, right." Bones laughed. "Look, hang on a sec, would you?" 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

Bones let go of my hand--I kind of wished he hadn't--and left the room. Maybe ten minutes later, he was back, a stack of papers under his arm. He sat down on the window seat again and handed them to me. "I know how good you are at crammin' for exams," he said teasingly, "so here's something to study for tomorrow." 

I studied the book on top. _Twenty-Five Christmas Carols for Piano and Voice._ "Thanks, Bones," I said, and meant it. I looked up and grinned. "Wanna help me study?" 

Bones laughed again, and he _did_ look embarrassed, but he opened the book to the first carol.

* * *

The house was dotted with mistletoe. 

I noticed it for the first time when I saw one of Bones' cousins point up, then grab his wife (at least I was pretty sure she was his wife) and dip her for a kiss. I glanced upward and realized the living room had a sprig of greenery with white berries in random locations everywhere. 

"Land sakes, where did all this mistletoe come from?" 

I turned to see Miz Lizbeth, hands on her hips, looking up at the ceiling. She turned a mock glare on me. "Leo's told us _all_ about your reputation, Jim Kirk. Did you do this?" 

"No, ma'am," I said. "What's it doing here?" 

"You don't know about mistletoe?" 

I shrugged. "It's a hemi-parasitic plant that attaches to a host plant by means of the haustorium, absorbing water and nutrients that way. The berries are poisonous, albeit not fatally, and greater density of mistletoe growth means greater diversity in the local animal population. Botanically speaking, it's not very interesting. But I don't know why it would be hanging up in the house." 

"It's a silly old tradition," Miz Lizbeth said, "but people hang up sprigs of mistletoe at Christmas-time, and if someone catches you standing under it, they're supposed to kiss you." 

"Thanks for the warning," I said lightly. I suddenly had a feeling I knew exactly who had hung the mistletoe. 

I was right. Suzanna kept watching me like a hawk whenever I walked through the living room or the hall. I always looked up before I stopped moving, just to make sure I wasn't under one. She stood pointedly under a sprig of mistletoe for ten minutes, watching me help a couple of the little ones set up a model train--that was actually a lot of fun--until one of her cousins saw her and planted a resounding smack on her cheek, which made her screech and chase the cousin in question out the back door. 

"Never a dull moment around here," Bones muttered, shaking his head as he came into the room. 

Suzanna came back, looking sulky, and spotted me. "Jim, you _do_ know what mistletoe is all about, right?" 

"Sure." I straightened up and noticed Miz Lizbeth had stopped to adjust one of the figurines on the mantlepiece. She so happened to be standing under one of the sprigs. I walked over, bent down--she was a tiny lady, not even five feet tall, and I'm six foot even--and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled, blushing like a schoolgirl, and patted my cheek before going back to what she was doing. 

Suzanna's glare followed me as I left the room. 

I didn't see her again for most of the day, but that evening I slipped outside and sat on the front porch steps watching the sun set. The sky had always fascinated me, even before I'd decided to join Starfleet, and sunrises and sunsets had always drawn my attention. 

"Whatcha lookin' at, Jim?" 

I suppressed a groan as Suzanna slid onto the step next to me-- _right_ next to me--and resisted the urge to press against the post. The least I could do was give her a civil answer. "The sunset. Gorgeous, isn't it?" 

"I've seen 'em before," Suzanna said, a little dismissively. 

"You haven't seen this one," I said without taking my eyes off it. "No two sunsets are exactly alike." 

"People used to say that about snowflakes, too. It's not true." 

"It's true about sunsets. I should know." 

Suzanna looked up and sighed. "I knew I should've put it over the steps and not over the rug," she muttered, more to herself than to me. 

I sighed, tearing my eyes away from the solar symphony. "Suz, we need to talk." 

Suzanna's face twisted. She scuffed her foot against the step. "Look, if you don't think I'm pretty, just say so." 

"What?" I said, startled. 

Suzanna looked up at me. "Leo told us that first year that you chased after every pretty girl you saw. But you've been avoiding me. Guess that means you don't think I'm pretty." 

"Suzanna, it's not that," I said. "Not at all. You _are_ pretty. It's just..." 

"Just what?" Suzanna demanded. 

"You're fifteen. No, don't give me that I'm-almost-sixteen look, you're fifteen. I'll be twenty-five in less than two weeks. That's a ten-year age gap." 

"I like older men," Suzanna said impudently. 

"And I like older women," I retorted. 

"Ouch!" Suzanna pretended to look wounded. Then she fluttered her eyelashes at me. "I'm pretty mature for my age, you know. Mama always says so. And I'll be a grown woman before you know it." 

"Suzanna." I turned my body so that I faced her fully, one leg tucked under myself. "Listen to me, okay? Just listen. Bones is my best friend. I look up to him and respect him like I do very few other people. I'd trust him with my life--and he trusts me with his. But he also knows a lot more about me than you do. I'm not gonna mess around with his kid sister. I--I'm not a long-term kind of guy. I'm a love-'em-and-leave-'em type." 

"Maybe that's what I want." Suzanna's face set in a mulish expression. 

"No, it's not," I said gently. "And it's not what you deserve. You deserve a strong and steady guy, a guy who thinks you're the sun and the moon and the stars. A guy who wouldn't leave you for anything. A guy who'll drop everything to help you, no matter where you are or what he's doing. A guy who can look at you and forget every single other person in the galaxy. A guy who thinks of your safety and well-being before he ever thinks of his own." 

Suzanna's face shifted from stubbornness to surprise and an odd sort of shyness. "There are guys like that?" 

"Sure." I turned back to look at the fields, bathed in the deep crimson of sunset's last light. "Somewhere out there is the perfect man for you. He'll give up everything he's ever thought he wanted and follow you to the ends of the universe if you ask him to. He'll hold you when you're scared and push you to doing things you never thought you could. He'll smile at you and you'll forget what you were going to say, and then he'll keep doing it just because it makes you mad, but you won't be able to stay mad at him long. He'll go out of his way to do little things that make you feel special and wanted. He'll stand by you when you're at your lowest and bask in your glory when you're at your highest..." 

"He'll visit his family and talk about me so much his little brother will fall madly, passionately in love with me without ever having met me..." 

"Exactly, he'll--what?" I jerked up, staring at Suzanna. 

Suzanna giggled, but not coyly like she'd been doing--like an impish teenager. "Sorry. It's just that all that stuff you've been saying--it sounds almost like you're describing Leo. Like, what you said about the perfect guy for me following me to the ends of the universe? Last Christmas, I overheard Mama and Granddad talking to Leo about coming back to work on the farm, giving up 'all this space nonsense,' and he said no. When Mama pointed out he was afraid of space, he agreed with her, but he said you were counting on him to be your CMO when you get your first starship, and he wasn't gonna let you down." 

I swallowed. _Oh, God, how much had Suzanna guessed?_ "Well, there you go. Proof that guys like that do exist. If you can find a guy like your brother, you'll be fine." 

Suzanna gave a mock-groan. "Good God, you mean there are _more_ men like Leo out there?" 

I laughed, but it was with sincerity that I said, "I wish we were all like him." 

"And you're saying that you're not? That you never could be?" Suzanna said, looking at me shrewdly. 

"Maybe for someone, someday," I said, thinking of a pair of brown eyes and a half-amused, half-exasperated smirk. "But not for you. I'm sorry, Suzanna." I looked at her again. "But I'd like to be friends." 

Suzanna looked at me a moment longer, then smiled and held out her hand. "Friends?" 

"Friends." I shook her hand. 

We sat in silence as the last of the sun's rays faded away. At last I said, "Hey, Suz?" 

"Yeah, Jim?" 

"Now that we've had this talk, can you maybe dismantle the mistletoe labyrinth in the living room?"

* * *

The next day was Christmas Eve. 

All the decorating was done. Suzanna had dutifully taken down the mistletoe--well, most of it; she'd left one sprig in front of the fireplace, but at least it was easy to avoid. People had started putting presents under the tree, and the kids kept looking at it, jabbering excitedly as they found boxes with their names on them. 

After breakfast, Norma Jean announced her intention of running into Atlanta to pick up some last-minute stuff. I immediately asked to go with her; I'd brought a present for Bones, one for his grandparents, and one for his mom, but I hadn't known about the rest of the family and I felt guilty about not having presents for them. Bones offered to come as well, but Norma Jean told him to stay put, in no uncertain terms. He looked nervous, but agreed. 

"Gotta pick up his present," she admitted to me in a low tone as we walked out the door. "Special order. I mean, I've gotta pick up yours, too, but yours'll be easier to hide." 

I blushed. "You don't have to get me anything." 

"Like hell I don't. You're family, boy." Norma Jean grinned at me and steered me around the side of the house. 

It turned out she drove an old car, a 1965 Chevy convertible, similar to the one I'd driven into the quarry when I was a kid, except that while my dad's old car had been tan, this one was British racing green. Norma Jean was every day of fifty, but when she said "hop in," she wasn't speaking in metaphors--she hauled herself up onto the door, sat on it briefly, then swung her legs over and into the driver's seat. Following her lead, I planted one hand on the top of the door and vaulted over without so much as brushing the frame. 

"Show-off." Norma Jean smirked. 

I gave her my most disarming grin. "Maybe a little." 

"You better watch where you point them eyes, boy," Norma Jean said as she started the car. "Make a girl lose her head." 

We drove in silence for a while. I was enjoying the feel of the wind in my hair, the unexpected warmth on my face, the sights and smells of the countryside. Atlanta was a big city, but the town on the outskirts where the McCoys had made their home since the War Between the States (as Jasper had told me the day before while we were mucking out stalls) was still country. 

Unexpectedly, Norma Jean said, "Or a boy." 

I jumped and stared at her for a moment. Then my brain connected what she had just said with what she'd said before. "Um, what do you mean by that?" I tried to sound casual, but dammit, I was blushing again. 

Norma Jean looked at me sideways, a definite smirk on her face. "I ain't blind, boy, and I ain't stupid, neither. I've seen the way you look at Leo, and heard the way he talks about you, not to mention the way he talks _to_ you. How long have y'all been dating?" 

"We're not." My cheeks actually hurt, I was blushing so hard, so I knew she wouldn't believe me. 

Sure enough, she said dryly, "Uh-huh. C'mon, I won't tell. It's just you, me, and the gearshift." 

"No, really," I insisted. "Bones is--he's straight. And I'm not his type." 

"He ain't straight. Before he met Jocelyn--" Norma Jean scowled as she mentioned Bones' ex-wife--"he dated a mixed bag, boys and girls. Mostly boys, to be honest. We all thought he 'n Dalton Warwick would end up together for a while. And if you didn't know that, how do you know you ain't his type?" 

Somehow, knowing that Bones was bi made things a lot more complicated. I swallowed hard before answering. "I--I don't do relationships. Not really. I do one-night stands. I'm a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy. That's not what Bones is looking for. It's not what he deserves." 

"So you _do_ like him," Norma Jean said triumphantly. 

"Of course," I said quickly. "He's my best friend and--" 

"Don't play the idiot with me. You know what I mean." Norma Jean shook her head. "Look, like I said, this is all between you, me, and the dashboard. I ain't gonna go shoutin' it all over Georgia. But Leo's my favorite nephew. I didn't approve of Joss. I approve of you." 

"Thanks. I think." 

"So?" Norma Jean prompted. "Do you like him or not?" 

I was silent for a minute. I hadn't ever admitted it out loud, to _anyone,_ hadn't even said the words in the privacy of my own dorm room. But yeah, I did. I'd fallen in love with Bones almost as soon as I'd met him. But since I'd always believed he was one hundred percent straight, I'd never said a word. I hadn't wanted to ruin our friendship, especially since I'd come to depend on it. Bones was always there to patch me up when I was hurt, to be a shoulder I could lean on when I was broken. He was my wingman, my study partner, my sparring partner, and my best friend. He was the only person who'd ever come into my life and stayed more than a few weeks, and I couldn't destroy that. 

"Yes," I said softly. "I do." 

"Thought so." Norma Jean smiled. "What do you plan to do about it?" 

"I don't," I admitted. "I--I've been hurt a lot, Aunt Norma Jean. I don't want to risk losing him. Don't want to screw everything up." 

Norma Jean looked like she was about to say something, then stopped and sighed. "I understand, kiddo. Trust me, I do." 

We drove the rest of the way to Atlanta in silence.

* * *

That evening, Miz Lizbeth served dinner early. I was a little confused, especially when the kids ran upstairs and came back down, not in their pajamas, but in their nicest clothing. I came across Ted McCoy staring into the mirror over the mantle, combing his hair. He glanced at me over his shoulder. "Aren't you going to get changed?" 

"Changed for what?" I asked, more confused than ever. 

"Church, of course. Candlelight service is in an hour. You can't turn up in jeans and a t-shirt." Ted pointed me up the stairs. 

I went obediently, but I wasn't sure what to do. First of all, I'd never set foot in a church in my life. I knew--vaguely--that Christmas had started off as a religious observance, the birth of the Son of God, and a lot of the songs Bones had helped me to learn mentioned God and Jesus and all that. But I'd never met anyone who seriously bought into religion, of any kind. People mostly celebrated Christmas these days as a time of peace and goodwill. It had never occurred to me that the McCoys would be different, although I did know the South was slower to change and more steeped in tradition than the other parts of the country. 

Second of all, I didn't _have_ any nice clothes. Outside my cadet reds (which I hadn't brought with me), I mostly lived in jeans and t-shirts and my leather jacket. Bones hadn't told me I would need anything like that. Neither had Norma Jean, or I would have picked up something at the mall earlier that day. 

At a loss, I stood in the center of the room I'd been assigned, then crossed through the bathroom and knocked on Bones' door. 

"Come in!" 

His muffled voice sounded a little crabby, but I steeled myself and went in. Bones was standing in front of his dresser, a mirror over it, trying to get his tie straight. He cursed and ripped it off, then turned towards the door. His scowl vanished when he saw me. "Oh...hey. What's up?" 

I couldn't help but smile. "Here, let me get that for you." I took the tie out of his hands and smoothed out the wrinkles, then draped it around his neck and got the ends even. As I began working on the knot, I added, "I just...didn't know about all this. The church service, I mean. I didn't bring any good clothes. I don't _own_ any good clothes." 

Bones' eyes widened. "Oh, hell, Jim, I didn't think..." He swallowed. "You--you can come as you are. Gran's church is pretty easy. Long as you're not actively drinking or--" 

I looked up, feeling a little uneasy. "I don't want to embarrass you. Or your family. I mean...I've never been in a church before." I finished the knot and slid it up, tight enough to be secure but not enough to strangle, and then turned down Bones' shirt collar. "There, that's you done, at least." 

Bones stared at me for a minute. Before he could say anything, there was a knock on his door. He shook himself, as if he'd been in a trance, then called again, "Come in." 

Miz Lizbeth opened the door. She was wearing a becoming dress of dark red velvet, the color of cranberry sauce, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings. She smiled when she saw Bones. "Leo, you look absolutely handsome...Jim, dear, you're not hardly ready." 

I felt myself blushing. "I, uh, I don't--" 

Bones put a hand on my shoulder. "Gran, if it's all the same to you, I think Jim an' I are gonna stay home tonight." With a weak smile, he added, "Don't want a repeat of last year, after all." 

Miz Lizbeth pursed her lips briefly. "That was a disgraceful way for her to behave in a house of God. But, dear, why did you get all dressed up if you don't plan to go?" 

"Didn't see any point in staying by myself, but Jim said he'd be willing to stay back. Hold down the fort an' all that." Bones' accent was getting thicker, a sure sign he was under stress. 

Even if I hadn't known Bones was lying, I'd have known he was lying--I knew him well enough that I could always tell. Miz Lizbeth could tell, too, but she let it go. "All right, dear. We'll be back by nine. If you want to have hot cocoa ready--" 

"We will, Gran," Bones said. "Y'all have a good time now." 

Miz Lizbeth nodded, smiled at us both, and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, Bones exhaled, dropping onto his bed, and looked up at me. "Sorry you did my tie for nothing." 

I didn't tell Bones that it was worth the effort to see him dressed up. He looked damned good in a suit. "It's all right. Thanks for staying with me...but what were you talking about, 'what happened last year?'" 

Bones sighed and patted the bed next to him. I sat down. He ran a finger under his tie, loosening it as he explained, "Joss. Been two years since the divorce--well, three now--and things aren't any better than they were the day she gave me my walking papers. The church has two Christmas Eve services, a 5:30 and a 7:30, and last year we both wound up at the 7:30. Ran into each other by accident. She shouted-- _screamed_ \--at me, right on the church steps. Took the pastor and the choir director to pull her away." 

"So much for 'peace on Earth, goodwill towards all,'" I said lightly, but inside I was seething. There are very few people in this world I hate, but Bones' ex-wife tops the list. He was such an amazingly good guy that I couldn't imagine anyone treating him the way she did. 

Bones smiled, a little reluctantly. "Yeah, well...anyway, I wasn't too thrilled about going back this year anyway, but I couldn't come up with a convenient excuse to beg off." 

"Glad to oblige." 

"Ah, hell, Jim, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant--" Bones stopped, looking confused. 

I smiled and patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Bones. I know what you meant." 

Bones smiled back. "Lemme get changed into something more comfortable, then we can go downstairs and enjoy not having the rugrats around." 

Fifteen minutes later we were downstairs in the living room. The house was almost unnaturally quiet, the last car had just left the driveway. Bones had turned off all the main lights and plugged in the Christmas tree, which filled the living room with soft, twinkling lights, red and yellow and green and blue. They reflected off the shiny glass ornaments, the foil-like papers on the presents, and above it all shone the star at the top. 

Bones sat down on the sofa. I sat next to him. Without really thinking about it, I leaned my head on his shoulder, tucking my legs up underneath myself. He wrapped an arm absently around my shoulders. We tended to spend a lot of our time relaxing like this, sitting with our backs pressed against one another or leaning against each other's sides. Sometimes one of us would lie down with our head in the other's lap and fall asleep like that, just take a nap and trust the other to look after us. As much as I desperately wished it were otherwise, it didn't mean anything. We were just friends. 

We sat in silence for a while. Finally, Bones spoke, softly. "So how have you been enjoying your first real family Christmas, Jim?" 

"A lot." I smiled. "Your cousins' kids are adorable. Suzanna's a pistol. And your aunt Norma Jean is--she's something else." My smile faded as I considered what Bones had said. "It isn't just Christmas I've never had before. I've never had a family." 

Bones' arm tightened around my shoulders briefly. "Well, you're part of this one now." 

"I know. And you have no idea how good that makes me feel." I closed my eyes for a moment. "Thank you so much, Bones." 

"For what?" 

I looked up. "For inviting me out here. For introducing me to your family. For letting me be a part of it. For staying here with me tonight. For everything." 

Bones smiled and ran a hand over my hair lightly. "Thank you for coming. You know, I'd've invited you that first year, but I thought you were gonna want to see your mom. And last year you were on the _Farragut_ \--did you even get leave for Christmas?" 

"No, I had duty." What I didn't say was that I'd volunteered for it. Most of the other crew members had family, people to spend time with. I'd actually pulled a triple-shift, traded with two other guys to ensure that I'd have a full two days off later on when Bones came back from Georgia. 

"I wish I'd been able to get you out here, even just for a couple of days. Last year was rough. I missed you." 

I felt a lump in my throat. "I missed you, too," I admitted. 

Bones stroked my hair again. "I'm glad you were able to be here this year. Honestly, if you hadn't come, I'd have stayed in San Francisco." 

I sat up, surprised. "What? And missed all this?" 

"Yeah," Bones said. He hadn't taken his arm from around my shoulders, and now he gently pulled me back down to lean against him. "It hasn't seemed like Christmas without you." 

Warmth filled me. I rested my head on Bones' shoulder again; he rested his chin on the top of my head. Softly, he began to sing. He had a lousy voice, but somehow, it didn't matter so much, not then. The words of the Christmas carol, which I later found out was his favorite, seemed to fill the air around us, wrapping me in a cocoon of love and safety. 

I closed my eyes and smiled as he finished. "Merry Christmas, Bones." 

"Merry Christmas, Jim." Bones pressed a light kiss to my forehead. 

When the family came in an hour later, they would find the two of us on the sofa, curled around each other, sound asleep, both of us smiling slightly. The next morning, we would be awoken at an ungodly hour by the younger children thundering downstairs to see what they'd been given. There would turn out to be a surprisingly large number of presents under the tree with my name on them, and we'd spend the rest of the holidays playing with the kids and riding horses. But right then, none of that mattered to me. 

I had Bones. And that was the best Christmas gift anyone could ever ask for.


End file.
